I wasn’t planning to write this. But you know the feeling when you wake up after a great first date, when you’re giddy, and excited, and filled with anxious optimism about the future? That’s how I felt this morning, while thinking about… Philadelphia. It’s very likely that the city’s Democrats will nominate a woman for mayor for the first time ever today, along with a string of progressive City Council candidates who might actually bring new, creative ideas to an institution that has long accepted the status quo.
My crush on Philadelphia isn’t new, but my feelings have wavered throughout the years — between love and hate, hope and disappointment, affection and disgust. During a recent session with a career coach (who lives in California), I found myself spewing insults at the City of Brotherly Love: Too small! Too segregated! Backwards! Boring! “I don’t care what my next job is — I’d rather be anywhere but here.”
Today, I feel compelled to apologize and to write a love letter to my city. Because as I knock on neighbors’ doors with campaign lit hand, and I smell the scent of change brewing in the springtime air, I’m reminded about an unwavering truth about Philadelphia: It always, importantly, feels like home.
After 18 years living in Delco, four in rural State College, and two in Washington, D.C., I moved to Philadelphia in October 2015 — two weeks before Jim Kenney’s election. While living in Washington, my relationship with Philadelphia was long-distance. I’d take the train from Union Station to 30th Street on a Friday night, wake up on a friend’s floor in Fishtown on Sunday morning, trek happy and hungover to the Girard El stop with a bacon, egg, and cheese in hand, still in my sundress from the night before, with the taste of some boy I had madeout with at the Barbary lingering on my lips. Riding the El felt a lot safer back then, but then again, you’re not scared of much when you’re 22.
Whenever I returned to D.C., I was overcome with a deep sadness. I liked Washington — it was clean, and bright, and fun. I had an awesome first job, and I met lifelong friends. But then, I’d listen to my sister talk about her life in West Philly — the restaurants she frequented, the community she built, the neighborhood cats she had befriended — and I wanted that, too. No matter how often I biked through Rock Creek Park or bar-hopped on U Street, I perpetually felt like a visitor in my city. To my outsider eye, Philadelphia represented a place where you lived on a block with a diverse group of neighbors, and you knew them by name. It was where generations of families took care of each other, where you could roll into your corner deli wearing sweatpants and flip flops on a Sunday morning, and a guy behind the counter named Louie would already be making your hoagie order.
Once Philadelphia and I entered into a committed, long-term relationship, I could finally see its many cracks up close, and the sheen of the city began to wear off. I lived in infested apartments owned by greedy slumlords. The homicide rate climbed, and the opioid crisis worsened. City officials committed crimes and fumbled the pandemic response. Once, my credit cards were stolen. And my heart? Broken.
But after all of our ups and downs, this election is making me feel like I’m reconnecting with a high school sweetheart after many years apart. It’s reminded me that there’s a reason my heart breaks so severely every time that Philly fucks up — it’s because the stakes are so high, and my love is so deep. Here, we scream about what’s wrong, because we’re fighting for what’s right. I want Philadelphia to be better, because I know it can be.
I voted for the mayoral candidate who seems to believe in Philadelphia just as much as I do. And I hope you will, too.
Catchy, quirky and Well-written as always
I miss Philly too
It gets under your skin and in your heart just like a sweet lover as you say
Yes, we’re dating again and always